Exodus Astray
by SpiritOfCarnage
Summary: He never asked for more time on earth maybe, but the need to see her face again... - What would happen if love could break death in the most faulty ways? What if our deepest longings could alter the straight line drawn by death? Augustus is hanging in between life and Something. Does everything happen for a reason or is it just some broken fate? -Patience will be highly rewarded.-
1. Introductory - 1

Hey guys! I must admit it's been awhile since I've written anything so this might not be as polished as it should be. As all of you I also read the book, I cried me a river and now I'm here to take this sad ending to another level.

I never liked sad endings, life is filled with cliff-hangers and sad endings anyway. Most of us go to fictional worlds looking for something to ease our pain, take us away from the harsh reality for awhile. And as long as I have these two hands, I will write. It might not look like much, maybe I'm not a good author either but someone should give dear Augustus and beloved Hazel Grace their deserved infinity. (Oops. Spoiler. Lol.)

And I will go until the end, and I hope you will enjoy it. :)

-You can always follow me on Instagram under the name "100MetersMore", I will be posting alot of progress info there whether you follow or not. :) Takes the edge and loneliness of being beta-less away. :)) Thank you.

* * *

When you go there, the expected –Something, it envelopes you in a way that you can tell only later, when you are out of it. When you are there though, there is no way of knowing where you will end up.

-Which might not make sense to you right now, since you are dead and where else you can go beyond here but I will explain.-

Whether you are going to go through that door into the Something that I assumed was the life after life, or fall into this state of feeling absurdly empty and discontented for no apparent reason but at all times. A frustration. A constant depression that youı can not act upon. Now that is how I feel.

Let me assure you of a couple things though. There is no 21 grams of soul that hangs in the air. There is no looking down from up yonder to your crying relatives. I guess this is what the doctors would call comatose. Unconsciousness.

You are not. You never are. For the time that your soul is weighted to be decided whether you should live or die; you can still hear the beeping of the devices attached to your pitiful body, smell chlorine in the air, feel every artificial breath forced into your lungs and you feel it with such detail and intensity that you can not tell whether it is real or imagination, created by your struggling brain. At some undefinite moment you realize that you actually stopped feeling altogether. There is no whirling breath, no continuous beeping, no wailing mother. And then you are dead. This thing between being drowned and trying to breath while a heavy wind beats your face and being burried alive -which, when you think of it, actually could be true and it scared me so for a moment- is death. At least at first I assumed so. The truth, however is far from that.

It makes you feel weird, this pathetic sense of accomplishment when you feel that you can affect but can not be affected. Be there and also anywhere and nowhere at the same time. Then it hits you like an avalanche out of nowhere, the fact that you are nothing. That you are the book that fell for no reason, the door that slammed beacause of the wind, the cup that you don't know how you toppled over. Nothing. And as far as I know, Hazel Grace is not the kind of girl to believe in poltergeists.

You don't realize that you are living when you are living. No one does. Days feel too long and weeks too short. Most of your time goes by with reminiscing and regretting that one thing you did ten years ago. We keep on delaying your passions and dreams to an indetermined future as if the whole concept of time and space is in our hands and under our feet.

This is why death is a concept largely avoided by people. Theiroblivion to the inevitable oblivion itself renders life livable. Or else every hope and dream that people build upon the concept of prospected time would fail. Life would be overwhelmingly intense.

This is why, my beloved Hazel Grace, depression is a side effect of cancer, or living, or living with cancer to be precise. Death is still indefinite as ever but so much closer than it ever was and everything you have wanted to do but never done suffocates you so, and you carry them on your back to every doctor appointment, to every support group and everywhere else you go. They crush you so.

And I so foolishly believed that if I left a mark on this world, this nagging little devil on my shoulder -reminding me of everything I have never been and never will be- would let me be. I would never think that while searching for a cover from the falling rain, a flood would swallow and drown me. Weren't you a beautiful flood, Hazel Grace. And you should believe me when I say that I never ever asked fors pare time on this earth, but the need to see your face once more, to tell you all would be okay… It disrupted everything I thought I was, knowing that we didn't even have time for comforting lies, let alone the harsh truth that was my death. It made me sadder than ever Hazel Grace. Hanging between life and death. Not because I was afraid of dying. And I really was done with this earth Hazel Grace, and with everything I had to offer.

But a deep, dark, shady corner of me that I didn't know existed, wasn't done with you. And I don't think it ever will be. Your mark on me, was and will always be bigger than my need to leave one on you.

I don't think it was uncertainty that left me as a shadow of what I was on earth. I haven't seen anyone else floating around yet and I am pretty sure that everyone who perished didn't die with a solid certainty, completely at ease with the life they led. But still, something made me into this ghost hand on your swollen cheek. Closer than ever while you sleep, and not even able to smell the scent of your skin and I'd cry, Hazel Grace. I'd be sobbing at your feet if I could.

But all I can do is stand here at your bed at night, heaving with lungs that sting despite everything I am not. Wondering what have I done to be cursed with this half life, and how the hell I ended up here. And why.


	2. Introductory - 2

As I said, patience will be rewarded. I want to give you an idea of what kind of a world I have created in my mind. This won't be a short story and I haven't written anything other than poorly constructed short stories and lyrics that I've never got around to finish in a very very long time so please bare with me as my character development probably takes a bit more time than it should. I just don't want you to be like "...wtf?!... when did we come here? how..?..." I hate those things. :))

On Instagram: 100MetersMore ... I got an epic reaction photo like "whaaaaaa?" Keep 'em coming. I love getting feedback and I can take criticisim, please don't ever ever hold it back if you see something wrong. :)

* * *

Frustration. This is what turns all those other geists into hostile, hateful, hurtful ghosts of their own remorse and repentance. Human nature follows us to the grave and beyond. And restlessness kills us once more, well, figuratively. Or, on others case mostly, whatever made them so unstable in their soul enough to cheat dead in its own game left the earth before they had a chance to sate their thirst for forgiveness. I though, haven't the slightest idea about what willl become of me when that happens to us, Hazel Grace. Because I have never in our time together done anything that I would like to take back. -If you count out my death which wasn't in my power to stop because god knows I would if I could.- And as far as a geist goes, I hardly think that it will go as far as that. And if this is just another chance for me to see you even one more day; then I, as I said before, am not in the business of denying myself of such pleasure. Small pleasures.

I have to admit though, at first, I felt like was passing a sacred treshold, invading your privacy. Tethering around, sometimes accidentally knocking off a solitary piece of paper or another light object. I was concerned and weirdly thrilled that I would either scare you or give away my presence but then I realized, relieved but also in misery, that my measly affect on this earth was not enough to make you see that there, right beside the bed you lie in, tired and a little in pain, was the remnants of the soul of your deceased lover.

But then again Hazel Grace, it's all coming back with a pace of its own, all the senses, you can not rush it and you can not slow it down. I can't determine how long I have been around here, I am not even sure of what I wanted in the first place but slowly, I feel like something is making me whole again. Not materially maybe but my soul and every other thing that makes a human is being somehow restored in me. The first one was the sight. I remember seeing; something, nothing; I can not be sure. Then the touch. Like a breeze at the beginning, fleety. Then like a wind. Sounds, smells... Muffled in my ear, as if in my head, then clearer. And the first thing I smelled was the steamed broccoli, made by your mom. I have to say it's a quite strong smell, and not really pleasant at all.

Nowadays I go on for these simple pleasures. Yesterday we went to the hospital. You went actually, I followed. I know it's getting worse, the fluid accumulation. And I don't know how long I will beable to wait in the steamy bathroom, still suffocatingly warm and humid, smelling of your shampoo, while waiting for you to get dressed in your room. See, it's that weird sense giving or invading privacy that follows you everywhere. I can not deny that being so close to you in such ways is, dizziying but I don't think I would ever be able to make myself... Do what, look? Ah. The human nature and it's arch enemy, morals, and everything else we can not deny.

Everything takes me back to the days I could just stand beside you and "be". And after you, I ust don't want to "be" anymore. The though, being stuck on this world for forever scares me so. For now though, I will settle for watching your mom connect you to BiPAP, kiss your brow and tuck you in. I wait for you to fall asleep. Then slowly, I perch myself by your side on the bed. So close, so warm. You smell so sweet and I think to myself, I really have no interest in "being" without you around. I couldn't dare to touch you still. I couldn't. I feel like crying but nothing comes out of my eyes. Since I'm no longer a whole man, and instead, I just get a dull ache in my throat, nose and chest.


End file.
